


I'll Take Care of You

by SecretGeniusShittyKnight (augopher)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Actuary Holster, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Future Fic, Getting Together, He just doesn't show all those emotions often, Holster's boss is a dick, Implied anti-Semitism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jewish Adam "Holster" Birkholtz, Large Boy with large amounts of emotion, M/M, Med Student Ransom, Mutally oblivious pining, Or Is It?, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Graduation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10227239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/SecretGeniusShittyKnight
Summary: Holster has a bad day, and Ransom helps him through it. Cuddling ensues





	

**Author's Note:**

> A tumblr prompt fill that was supposed to be a drabble but got away from me.  
> Prompt: "I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with…"
> 
> Characters are the creation of Ngozi Ukazu and appear in her webcomic [Check Please](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693)
> 
>  
> 
> Content Warning: The mentioned homophobia and anti-semitism is not discussed in specifics. No actual slurs are used. Though Holster does say he overhears his boss telling someone to 'Jew them down on a price'

Ransom groaned, sinking down into the cushions of the sofa. If he could, he would live on this damn couch- so plush. so comfy. After all, he spent enough damn time sitting on it as he toiled away on all his damn homework for his fundamentals curriculum he should just marry the thing. Adjusting to his new position, half seated, half sprawled, he picked up his case study and held it in the air above his face. He made it two more paragraphs before dropping the packet of papers onto his face.

“Sucks to be you, Mr. 59 year old male with lower GI pain. Maybe you should have eaten more fiber in your younger years and laid off the red meat,” he grumbled into the stack of papers. God, he hated gastroenterology. Why couldn’t he go back to the cardiology block of his BHD module? Nothing against the professors teaching this section, but man, GE and him just didn’t get along.

Without a care what happened to his study materials, he stretched out and rolled onto his stomach. Then, he expended his last shred of dignity he had to spare for the day and screamed into the couch cushions. His momentary breakdown, the result of an overtaxed and anxious mind, over, he sat up and lost himself in his studies.

Some time later, Ransom registered the front door opening but didn’t care enough to turn his attention away, even when Holster began speaking. Just, it was Wednesday and he really wanted to get all his reading done for the next week so maybe, just maybe he might have a chance to enjoy his weekend.  _ You’re hilarious, Justin. You know that? As if you will have a minute of fun for the next five and a half years. _

Holster finally managed to get his attention when he threw a wadded up dish towel onto the coffee table from the kitchen.

“What the hell, dude? I’m trying to study. I have a big exam on Tuesday, and if I get all my reading done by tomorrow, I can have some time to unwind Friday night.”

For a moment, a brief moment, Holster looked contrite. “I know how you get around test time. Why do you think I tossed the towel onto the table and not near you? Anyway, did you hear anything I just said?”

Ransom gave a noncommittal grunt and tried for the third time to get through the page of text. Oh God, what if his remaining two and  two third years at medical school were all like this? Floundering as he tried, in vain, to soak up all the material.  _ No, stop it. You are an intelligent and hard working man. Don’t let the anxiety win.  _ “Knock it off,” he said to himself, soft, just above a whisper. It was one of his coping techniques that he’d never let anyone in on, which was, at that moment, one of the worst decisions Past Justin had ever made.

“I’m sorry my venting disrupts your studying. I’ll just-” Holster stopped, sighed, and retreated to the kitchen. 

Ransom heard the fridge open followed by the hiss of an opening bottle and the clatter of the cap on the counter.

“Well yeah, I mean I know you are disappointed they’re making a Golden Girls movie, and you disagree with the casting choices, but like can we talk about it over breakfast or something before I go and die in my classes tomorrow?”

Holster stopped mid-drink and pointed an admonishing finger at him. “There will be no dying of any sort. Especially from you. And don’t even get me started on that travesty of a film waiting to be made.” He paused, setting his beer bottle down on the small kitchen table they’d found with a ‘FREE’ sign on the Upper East Side. Holster drummed his fingers on the chair back before wrapping those piano player fingers of his around the wood. Even from across the room, Ransom could see the white in his knuckles as he gripped, could see his lips move as he exhaled as though he were trying to calm down. 

Ransom opened his mouth to apologize for bringing up that topic again, but Holster started speaking first. It was odd though, like Holster couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“You know there is more to me than a loyal devotion to pop culture, right? And maybe I was wrong to assume you understood I use TV shows and movies as a coping mechanism. You curl up under tables; I watch comedy. It’s just- I have actual feelings about real things too. Okay? And,” Holster craned his neck, staring up at the ceiling, “I help you as much as I can with your test anxiety. For the most part I deal with things on my own.”

That was true. Ransom couldn’t remember the last time Holster actually opened up about something important. Hell, the guy hadn’t even come out to him. Not really. Ransom just had the unfortunate luck of walking in on Holster with his dick in some dude’s mouth. The jockstrap rule was implemented the very same night. So for him to…

“Look, I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with, and maybe someone who will listen to me complain for fifteen minutes. If that’s not something you can handle right now, just say so, and I’ll figure something out. Go find a late night cat cafe or something. You think I’d be arrested for soliciting a prostitute if I just wanted to pay one to listen to me?” His laugh was broken and painful, and that just would not do.

Ransom stood and held up an index finger. “Just give me a second to grab some pj’s from the laundry. Where would you like said cuddling to take place?”

“I’ll be in my room when you’re finished. I can’t cuddle in this shit anyway,” he said tugging at his charcoal grey suit. Ransom could hear him grumbling under his breath as he retreated down the hall to his room, “fucking monkey suit. I feel like a goddamn tool.”

Ransom called over his shoulder while he walked to the laundry room- (well laundry alcove really. It was New York. Hell, they were lucky they didn’t need to haul their clothes to a laundromat), “You look nice though! Three piece is a great look on you.”

He dug until he found a pair of sweatpants, tugging them on in haste, only to realize halfway down the hall that they were Holster’s because they were practically hanging off his waist. Oh med school stress had not been kind to him! Some people stress ate. Others, like Ransom stress...not-ate..

“I gotta get back in the gym. Maybe I should join the soccer club. Mama is gonna ask if they’re starving me at school.” He made a mental note to both email the club’s admin and then call Bitty for an emergency pie in the morning..

“Ransy, hurry up, my piggies are cold, and I’m cranky!”

Ransom shook his head, and two steps from the doorway to Holster’s bedroom, took a running start and jump-flopped into the bed. He wriggled around for a moment to get comfortable. “Hey, you get a new mattress? Feels a lot nicer than it used to.”

“To be fair, when was the last time you were in my bed?” 

Ransom looked over at Holster to find him blushing. He snatched Holster’s glasses off his face, folded them, and set them on the nightstand. “Looks good on you?”

“What does? My suit? Yeah I heard you. I still hate them though.”

“No,” he poked him in the cheek, “this.”

“Oh,” and Holster’s voice was small, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant-” He rubbed his eyes. “Fuck, I hate my job.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “My boss...is like the real world adult version of a LAX bro.”

Ransom sat up so he could look him in the eye. “Which LAX bro? Hypothetically speaking, you know so I have a mental image.”

Holster rolled his eyes at him. “I’ll give you three guesses, but I guarantee you only need one.”

“Wellersby?”

“I fucking hate that guy! But yeah. Winthrop is a real dickbag. Rides my ass into the fucking ground, and not in any way I might like,” he said with a wink. “Like who the fuck names their kid Chauncey Winthrop? It’s like the pinnacle of entitled WASPy names everywhere.” 

Holster went quiet for a couple minutes. “He’s such an asshole though, and the shit he says. It’s like he never ever entertained the possibility that not everyone in the office was a straight, white, Christian. Cause there’s nothing like hearing your boss say ‘Well, did you Jew them down on the price?’ right before he- Gah! Oh and, the pièce de résistance of it all? I got yelled at by a client who told me it was racist assholes like me that were keeping the poor in their place. All I did was ask her if she wanted to switch to paperless statements to save 0.5% on her interest rate.”

“Ooh nice, pulling out the fifteen dollar word there.” Ransom held up his hand for a high five, that Holster returned, even if his smile was forced. “That’s gross. That you had to put up with that.”

“But paperless saves trees, and who wouldn’t want a lower interest rate? And oh, get this, that client, I know for a fact is white cause she’s a partner at some law firm in the city and I see her advert on the M sometime, and her portfolio has 2.5 mil in it. So a) she’s a damn hypocrite beause she- No, you know what, I’m not even going to get into that can of worms. I just wanted to scream down the phone that she had no idea what I even looked like. I mean, she wouldn’t have been wrong in her assumption about my race, but you just can’t assume. And ugh, like sometimes I just want to roll my mouse pad into a cone and tell him off. But then I’d have to put up with his bullshit directed at me instead, and I don’t know if I could handle that in a mature way. Instead, I get to hope anyone I might date and want to bring to company parties is the right gender, right race, eat all the damn pork and shellfish at the company potlucks. Help me if I’m fasting, cause you know I can’t request any religious holidays off and keep him in the dark. This fucking sucks.”

“You know what you need?” Ransom rolled onto his back and patted his chest, an invitation. “And let the snuggling commence.”

Holster drew lazy patterns on Ransom’s stomach through his shirt. “But I swear to God,the next time I hear Winthrop call one of his clients a ‘ki-” Holster licked his lips. “Like I know he’s not talking about me personally, because he doesn’t know. But he might as well be. I still have to hear it every day. He’s an asshole, and I hate my job, Rans. I’m fucking miserable, but I gotta stick with it. One of us needs to be working, to pay our bills and keep us fed.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can ask my parents. We’re not married. Hell, we’re not even a couple. You don’t have to be responsible for me.”

When Holster stiffened against his chest, Ransom worried he’d upset him. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Not your fault.”

Ransom gave him an awkward shrug. “Well, I mean it kinda was. I wasn’t listening to you.”

“But what you said just now... what if I want to do that? What if I like shouldering the financial burden so you don’t have something else to worry about? I mean, does that bother you?”

“Sometimes. You don’t have anxiety troubles, but I’m sure you understand how irrational worry can be at times. So sometimes my brain just goes full negativity mode and tries to convince me you think I can’t take care of mysel-”

Holster sat up in a flash, his eyes large, round, and sad. “I don’t think that. I swear.” His emphatic hand gestures almost smacked him in the gut, and Ransom caught Holster’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Holster stared down at their joined hands before squeezing Ransom’s hand in return. “I just… I don’t like seeing you stressed out. I dunno; it hurts me too I guess. I take care of you cause you let me, and it makes me feel important. So, I’m gonna stick it out at this job as long as I have to. Just sometimes... I need someone to take care of me too, okay? No one I’d rather have do that than you. It’s- you’re- I mean- I lo...” he sighed and shook his head. “Never mind.”

Ransom blinked, his head reeling a bit as he took in Holster’s words and what he thought was about to come next. He didn’t know how to respond, in part because he wasn’t sure exactly what Holster had been on the verge of saying. He knew what he  _ wanted _ to hear. Hell, for all Ransom knew, Holster had been about to say  _ ‘I love knowing you have my back, Bro. _ ’ or worse  _ ‘I lucked out in the best friend department, didn't I?’ _

“But anyway, about that casting. What in the Hell were they thinking? Whoopi Goldberg as Dorothy!” He flopped onto his stomach and groaned into a pillow. The fabric did little to muffle his booming voice. “Goldie Hawn as Rose? Rose, Ransom! Goldie is no Betty White. I’m like an expert on that show. Why didn’t anyone call me? I could have told them to send a script pronto to Maggie Smith, Bette Midler, Anjelica Huston and Nichelle Nichols or Betty White if she was still up for it. And if my girl, Divine Miss M, isn’t available, call Raquel Welch or Ann-Margret. Jane Fonda is Blanche? Are you fucking kiddi-”

Ransom stopped him before he could get too worked up. “Go ahead and say it. Whatever it was you were trying to say before.”

Holster looked over at him through his pale lashes. “You don’t... you won’t... it will just mess with this whole Bro-zen thing we have going here.”

Thoughts in Ransom’s head were racing a mile a minute. “It, whatever it was--and I have a pretty good idea what is is you are trying to say--it won’t mess up a thing. I promise.” He took a deep breath, telling his brain to just stop thinking for once. Holster merely blinked at him, and then, Ransom made a choice. He said nothing else, rolled onto his side, and cupped Holster’s chin, turning his face--ever so slightly--to meet his. “I’ll take care of you anytime, just ask.” And then, he kissed him, soft and tender. Fireworks and confetti went off in Ransom’s head when Holster’s body turned towards him, mirroring Ransom’s position, and a heavy arm wrapped around his waist.

Both of them seemed too tired for anything else, but that was the beauty of it all. The languid pace at which lips moved against lips was overwhelming enough as it was, with the thickness of strong emotions hovering in the air above them. Ransom wasn’t aware when, exactly, that Holster had rolled onto his back, pulling Ransom with him. Not that he was complaining. Oh not at all. 

However, he wanted to break the kiss for a moment so he could say everything he’d bottled up for years now and pretended wasn’t real. Holster was reluctant to let him go, though; his hands greedy… and needy, kept a firm hold on him. Still, Ransom managed to pull back enough so he could look at him and found his words gone in an instant.

A flush had spread up from below the collar of Holster’s pajama shirt, painting his neck and cheeks with an enticing shade of pink. Ransom wanted to cover it with kisses just see if it tasted as good as it looked. He ran a thumb under Holster’s kiss-swollen lower lip. The way Holster chased the sensation made his heart stumble. All the eloquent things he’d wanted to say over the years failed him. All he could manage was a breathy, “Wow.”

Holster licked his lips, his chest heaving underneath Ransom. “You- you...too?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Rather than kiss him again, Holster wrapped his arms around him once more. One of those hands that Ransom had spent so many moments admiring as they danced across black and white keys, cupped the back of his head, fingers curling in the short hair, nails raking softly against his scalp. Holster held him, almost too tightly, as though he simply could not let him go. He buried his head in Ransom’s shoulder.

Still at a loss for anything to say, Ransom just let the comforting sensation envelop him. However, as he lay there in the stillness and the silence, he noticed the fabric of his t-shirt growing damp. “Hey, are you crying?”

Holster’s laugh rumbled through his chest and into Ransom’s body. “Shut up. Nothing wrong with crying.”

“I wasn’t chirping. Just wanted to make sure you were okay and that I hadn’t taken advant-”

“I wanted it. Would have stopped you if I didn’t.  _ These _ ,” he said looking at Ransom and pointing to his tear-stained cheeks, “are good tears. I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed right now. This was not how I envisioned my evening ending.”

Now it was Ransom’s turn to laugh. “Me neither. So we’re- This isn’t just a bad day one time thing right? If it was, I’ll be a little bummed, but I understand.”

“No. It’s- I want to be with you, if that’s what you’re implying. Fuck, I want that so bad.”

Ransom placed a soft kiss to Holster’s forehead. “I want it too.” The shy smile Holster gave him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “What do you say we get up and get ready for bed? You probably have to be up at the asscrack of dawn.” When he tried to wriggle out of Holster’s grip, Ransom found that the guy had apparently turned into a limpet on him. 

“No, stay please. You’re warm, and I’m not gonna lie, your weight when you were laying on my chest was like the most comforting thing. Plus...you have the softest skin ever. I’d be jealous if I didn’t love it so much.”

Finally, he managed to extricate himself and stood. He leaned down and kissed the tip of Holster’s nose. “I’ll be back. Just gonna brush my teeth and turn off the lights, lock up.”

“Yeah? You’ll sleep with me?” Holster winced at his double entendre. “I meant actual sleeping.”

“I know,” Ransom said from the doorway. “There will be time for  _ that _ another day.” He winked.

So let it never be said that Ransom was not diligent about his personal hygiene and grooming routines. He cared, okay. But he’d be lying if he said he took the full recommended two minutes to brush his teeth before padding back to Holster’s bedroom. 

They snuggled up under Holster’s afghan, the very same one his bubbe had made him for his eighth birthday. Though Holster had upgraded from college kid, low-thread count bed in bag when they moved into their rented condo, Holster would never give up this blanket. Ransom understood. If his grandmother had made him something like that, he’d never get rid of it either. As he walked his fingers along a fraying section of purple yarn, he chuckled. Over the years, he’d helped Holster repair it often, sometimes with a crude patch made of old t-shirts, others with a granny square they’d found at one of the thrift stores around Samwell. The patches never seemed to complement the purple, lime green, and navy yarn of the original blanket however. “You’re gonna need to fix this soon.”

“You know,” Holster said in the relative darkness of his room. That was one thing Ransom had learned quickly about New York City. Even though Hamilton Heights was not downtown Manhattan, the night sky was never dark enough, “I should just learn to crochet. Then I could fix it properly. Ah fuck I’m tired.” His yawn echoed in the room. Then, before he rolled onto his side away from Ransom, he kissed  him goodnight, mumbling an ‘ _ I love you _ ,’ against his Ransom’s lips.

Ransom pulled the blanket up over both their shoulders, spooning up behind him. “Love you, too. Hey, you know what this means?”

“Nngh-mm.”

“Well, Leonides is in a month or so. And you can wear that stunning grey suit vest, and I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

“See, now  _ that _ is a good use of my suits.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [Tumblr](http://secretgeniusshittyknight.tumblr.com/) ; we can be friends.
> 
> Also, in case anyone was wondering, Ransom goes to Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons.  
> BHD stands for: Body in Health and Disease and is part of their actual curriculum  
> GI- gastrointenstinal  
> GE- gastronenterology
> 
> I did take a bit of liberties regarding the semesters. Ransom would likely have had these sections in semester two not three. But Reasons.
> 
> Leonides is Columbia P&S's winter semi-formal


End file.
